


royal

by possessivepml



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Dan Howell - Freeform, M/M, Phil Lester - Freeform, Pj ligouri - Freeform, louise Pentland - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-10-30 07:55:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17824874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/possessivepml/pseuds/possessivepml
Summary: august 22nd, 1912.phil lester, soon to be king of england.daniel howell, the new butler of the king.but all is not what it seems for dan when he meets phil for the first time.





	1. Chapter 1

d a n

"What's your business here, chap?"

My line of sight snapped down to the sudden voice with a befuddled puff as I exhaled a breath I wasn't aware of holding. My idle position wobbled as result of my loose footing and I very nearly dropped the bags that I held.

Was I really in that much of a trance that I didn't notice the man visibly waiting for me to respond? It seemed so.

"O-Oh, pardon me sir," I stammered, feeling the hairs on my neck stand on end as he raised his eyebrow at me. I was incredibly intimidated by his glare. "I'm the new butler, I-I'm starting today."

He looked extremely unconvinced, and I didn't blame him the slightest bit. I looked like a rabbit in a leash of foxes.

He held his pressuring scowl before exhaling warily and sliding one of his veiny, rough hands into the velvety pocket of his right trouser leg, pulling out a miniature notebook with a fountain pen tucked between the wedged pages. He opened the book, flicking through the pages in a speedy manner with the pen in between his fingers. "Name?" He inquired as his eyes skimmed over the inked paper he'd traveled to.

"Daniel Howell," I responded, clutching onto the handles of my two packed bags as he searched for me on the paper.

His gaze connected with what would've been my name scrawled on the paper, and put a sharp line through it. My tense shoulders relaxed slightly at the lessening of stress. Knowing my poor luck, I wouldn't have been surprised if my name somehow wasn't on the list—at least it appeared.

He tucked the book back into his pocket and nodded. "Yes yes, follow me," he beckoned with his finger as he began to walk down the pebbled path, and I stumbled up behind him.

In that very moment as I made my way down the path with my two bags, a wave of disbelief washed over me. Now that the setting was all painted out in front of me, the excitement was beginning to outgrow the nerves I felt. The stones crunched beneath my feet as the guard led me closer and closer to the staggering castle looming over me. The building seemed to stretch out for miles, it was huge! I felt like a mere borrower compared to these ridiculously high-up cobblestone walls. Despite that, there was an almost mythical element to it.  
The way the gardens outshone the sky above with its healthy green glow of the grass and hedges, which had been trimmed and shaped into chess pieces—it was unbelievable to the eye. I could've listened to the sound of the water fountain all day, it was so incredibly relaxing. Away from the busy, loud outside world.

I stifled an elated laugh and sucked in my cheeks from just the remembrance of what was happening.

I was actually going to work here.

We reached the large, mahogany door and the guard pulled down on the metal chain beside it, and judging by the jangling of a deafening, indoor bell that sounded suddenly after he tugged it, it was a doorbell.  
There were a few seconds of silence before I heard the sliding of a lock and the creak of door hinges—and a man stood on the other side. He was fairly tall, with bright green eyes and wavy brown hair that seemed to bounce when he moved the slightest bit. He also wore thick, black glasses that perched on the bridge of his nose, and the lenses glinted from the beaming sunlight behind us.

"Ah, I'm glad you answered the door, I won't have to go searching for you now," the guard chirped, fumbling back in his pockets for the notebook and flicking to the page with my name on it. "This is Daniel Howell, the new butler everyone has been blabbering about. Your orders from the prince himself are to escort the young man to his sleeping quarters and give him a small tour around your general area."

_The prince himself?_ I felt a small hint of excitement creep up my spine at the realization—Prince Phillip knew who I was.

An utterly pathetic thing to get so joyous over, I was aware. But I couldn't help myself.

"Of course sir, gladly," he bowed his head at him briskly with a genuine smile. His gaze turned towards me. "Would you like to follow me?"

"Y-Yes, thank you," I replied, determined to look at least a little experienced in working with royalty, although I had no experience whatsoever.

The man at the door proceeded to step aside whilst the guard scurried off after a quick "cheerio!", and I took a nervous step inside. The floorboards creaked beneath my feet, and I instantly felt the history of the building tingle in my bones. The castle must've been so old, yet it still stood. I found that fact alone so fascinating.

Before I could absorb the historical elements into my mind, I felt my hand being clasped in two warm palms. My head snapped back to the side where the man stood, slightly flustered and shocked as he shook my hand.

"It's so lovely to finally meet you, Daniel," he beamed at me. "My name's Pj."

Pj. I found the name very peculiar indeed—but oddly fitting.   
I gained the confidence to shake his hand back, plastering on a quick smile. "It's lovely to meet you too, Pj." I debated whether to bring it up or not but decided I probably should, as I was going to be working alongside him. "You can call me Dan, i-if that's not too much of a bother."

He gave me a nod and a toothy grin. "Of course it's not a bother!" He laughed and released my hand. "Well, follow me. Everyone's been so desperate to meet you!"

As Pj walked ahead, I walked hurriedly behind him with a puzzled frown. "Pardon me, but... _desperate_ to meet  _me?_ " I had to let out a small laugh.

He laughed with me as we walked through a doorway that led to a winding corridor. It was so fancy, with the lanterns up on the walls, illuminating the red and gold wallpaper—there were even some fascinating paintings that I would've loved to study if I wasn't busy.  
"We don't get much action down where we are, you see," he chirped, craning his neck to talk to me as we walked. "so when there's a new person, it's like fresh bread among a flock of ducklings."

I couldn't help but feel a little intimidated by that comparison.

Pj and I got to a staircase that spiraled down underground. I peered down nervously, a little uncomfortable at the restricted amount of room I'd have whilst going down there.

"The staircase does look quite creepy," Pj admitted as he stood on the first step. "but it looks a lot worse than it actually is. Don't worry, it'll be much more spacious once we're down there."

I felt very comforted by the fact that he understood my concerns, else I would've presented myself as a complete chicken.  
I kept my head away from the ground as we made our way down the rusty stairs, our feet clanging against the compound with chilling ambience. I had to suppress a chill that'd slithered through my spine.  
I wasn't so sure why I was getting so agitated over the smallest of things. Perhaps it was because I wasn't yet used to being in such a grand environment, I mean I did move from a middle-classed cottage to a first-class castle after all. I found that I was still stuck in disbelief—yet I was there, believe it or not.

Much to my relief, we reached the bottom of the worn-away staircase, and my foot came into contact with the floor again.  
We'd reached a small, square room with white walls and a few candles dotted around the corners, with nothing much more to it other than a wooden door.

"Don't let this area put you off, Dan," Pj chuckled, jogging over to the door and placing his hand on the handle. "for this room is but a contrast to the inside."

Before I could even open my mouth to say anything more, Pj turned the handle and opened the door. The sound escaped and flooded through my eardrums; the sound of voices, chattering with excitement and high energy. As Pj and I slowly walked through the doorway, we became more and more exposed to the room of people. We'd entered a room with a long table in the middle of it, and the other people there were sat around it. They ate and talked with beaming smiles and passionate expressions. I definitely enjoyed the sight, for everyone looked friendly and barely intimidating. It was inviting, at least.

Pj leaned in closer to my ear so I could hear him over the chatter. "This is our dining area, and also where most people go when they've finished work early," he explained. "We're currently on our lunch break, would you like to join us before we continue the small tour?"

I wanted to get to know some of these people, so I politely took him up on the offer and nodded. "Yes please."

We headed over to the end of the table, and it was amusing to me how everyone was so absorbed in conversation that they didn't even notice us. I wasn't offended in the slightest, just...astonished.

"Please excuse me, Dan," Pj smiled, picking up one of the water glasses randomly resting on the wood of the table, along with a small metal spoon. Once he held them in each hand, he proceeded to bang the metal object against the glass, producing loud chimes that made my eardrums tingle. Everyone was quick to veer away from current conversation as attention switched to us. Admittedly, my confidence dropped a fair amount at the sight of all the faces pointing in my direction. I wasn't exactly used to this environment.

"Thank you," Pj thanked once everyone had quietened. "This is the new boy that everyone's been talking about. Daniel Howell, or preferably, Dan." He gave me a quick half-smile at that add-on. "Please do your absolute best to make him feel right at home, for we all remember how daunting our first days were."

"Welcome to the family," a girl at the table said, followed by a laugh from everyone, and normal conversation then resumed.

Pj took a seat at the end of the table, leaving a space between him and a blonde haired girl.  
"Please, come," he urged, patting the empty space next to him.

"O-Oh," I hurriedly walked over to the bench and took a seat in the empty spot.

Well, I didn't think that I'd cocked up  _too_ hard so far.

I turned down to see a plate of bread and cheese, waiting to be eaten. Seeing as I hadn't eaten a thing since I'd left my grandmother's house that morning, I decided that bread and cheese had been much craved throughout the day.

I picked it up with my hands and took the first bite. The bread was incredibly tough, and the cheese felt a bit hard to bite in to—but when you're hungry, a handful of maggots could even suffice as slightly filling. Perhaps not so great in terms of taste, though.

As I ate, Pj gave me a gentle nudge to get my attention, and I turned to him.   
"I deeply apologize for how talkative everyone is today," he explained. "There's a dinner party tomorrow you see, and everyone is ecstatic because we'll all be directly serving the pri—"

"—Oh shut up, Pj!" I heard a voice beside me yell, and my head snapped round in shock to see the blonde girl sat next to me. "If Dan weren't here you'd be just the same as us, don't try and act so mature and fancy."

Pj's face darkened. "L-Louise! I-I'm just acting normal—"

"—Bollocks," she laughed, and turned to me. "We're all crazy. Even Pj, believe it or not."

"But Louise is the craziest of us all," I heard across the table, and I looked over to see yet another girl. She had dark brown hair matching her eyes, with light eye makeup dusting her eyelids.

"Cat!" she hissed, but stopped and thought for a moment. "...I mean, you're not exactly wrong, but shush!"

I had to take another bite into my food to stifle a laugh that'd threatened to burst through my mouth.

"As I was saying," Pj cleared his throat and slowly turned back to me. "the prince is hosting a dinner party to meet with a business man about something, and as our duties are to serve the prince, we get to dish out the meal for them."

I found myself extremely excited for that event. I'd never met the prince before, and just the mere thought of seeing him up close sent a rush through me. "I-I see," I stammered, trying to contain myself.

"I wonder what he's talking about with them," Louise babbled, sipping her drink of water.

"Probably wedding plans," the girl who went by Cat replied. "It is drawing near, after all."

Louise shrugged. "You never know with that man. Don't you think he's quite sneaky, Dan?" she turned to me with a frown.

"I'm n-not sure," I answered with a nervous laugh. "I've never actually seen him in person before."  
I hated to gossip—but admittedly, I was interested in hearing about the prince without seeming too thirsty for information.

"Well, one thing that you notice about him," Louise began. "is that he's very secretive. I think it relates to the fact that his parents died, hence why he's been a prince for a long time."

"But how would that tie in with the fact that he's secretive? Louise, stop plucking things out of thin air and get some work done instead of making up conspiracies about our royal highness," Cat rolled her eyes, standing up and brushing a few stray crumbs from her dress. "Anyways, lunch break has almost ended so I might as well get back to work. It was lovely meeting you, Dan." She flashed me a smile.

I gave her a timid nod. "You too."

Once she'd walked off, Louise was quick to go back to her talking. "Sorry about that. We're best friends but we're polar opposites. I'm very outgoing whereas she's a tad more reserved."

"Very true point," Pj chortled. "You two are like fire and ice put together yet you still manage to get along just fine."

"Well, everyone becomes friends for life working here," Louise grinned at me. "so don't ever worry about being lonely, Howell. We support everyone in this castle."

My heart warmed, and a smile crept onto my face. My mind had no place for remaining nerves because the environment around me was so relaxed. It may have been bursting with energy, but it was positive energy. Truly.

Lunch break eventually ended, so Pj could continue the tour. There really wasn't much else to it other than a small privy, and then the dorms. They were all separate rooms, which wasn't what I expected beforehand—I thought it would be all one large room. At least I had a lot more privacy that way.

We reached my dorm room, and Pj was first to open the door for me. After thanking him with a nod, I stepped inside. A single bed laid in the corner of the room with a bedside table beside it. A tiny candle lit up the small room, giving it a cozy glow.

"The rooms aren't massive," Pj chuckled. "but we're incredibly grateful that we even have separate rooms so that fact alone disguises the size."

I shook my head, gradually turning back to him. "No it's fine. I like it a lot."

He half-smiled, looking around the room. "It is very cozy," he agreed with me. "Well, I'll leave you to unpack and make yourself at home, and once you're done I could show you how to do your daily jobs?"

"Sounds delightful," I responded genuinely. "Thank you very much for the tour, Pj."

"No worries. Welcome to the castle, Dan."

After exchanging a knowing smile with each other, he gently pulled the door shut.  
My shoulders relaxed as I exhaled, releasing the bags I held so that they landed on the ground with a messy thud.

I winced, bringing a hand to my head as I could feel a headache beginning to develop.  
Why now? I thought, slumping onto the bed to unpack. I'd just have to ignore it for now.

I opened up the first bag, and frowned down at it in confusion. There on top of my basic necessities was a wrapped-up pouch. When I took a look at it closer I could see the familiar scrawl that read  _'Love, Grandma xx'_ , and I chuckled to myself.  
I carefully unwrapped the mysterious pouch, and within its parcel I found three things: a mirror, a book, and a letter.

I reached for the letter first of all, eager to read what my grandma had written to me.

_Dear Grandson,_

_Please find enclosed two gifts. The first one being a small hand mirror. It used to belong to my mother, and I would love for you to have it. I feel that it will bring you a whole lot of luck._

I held the letter in one hand and picked up the mirror with the other. As expected, my reflection greeted me. A pale, skinny boy with brown curly hair stared back into my eyes, the boy who I'd grown with my entire life.

I saw tears within those brown eyes of his.

I was quick to realize and wipe the water away before I read on.

_There is also a blank-paged diary enclosed, which you can use only if you wish._

_Do with these gifts what you will. I hope they bring you good luck and positivity for your busy journey ahead in the castle._

_Best wishes,_  
_Love Grandma xx_

Oh, how kindhearted she was.

I decided that I'd write back to her as soon as I could—but for now, I had a job to get on with.

♔

p h i l

"Your Highness, might I suggest this splendid robe for your meeting tomorrow? I can very much see you wearing it," Mervyn suggested, holding the robe up a little higher to ensure I could view the whole of the material.

I took a look at it from a sideways glance as I stood in front of my grand, crystal-encrusted mirror. I deeply exhaled through my nose as my eyes loosely skimmed over the robe with little enthusiasm. "Is it not exactly the same as the robe you showed me beforehand, Mervyn?" I questioned him with a raise of my eyebrow.

His plump, wrinkled face began to redden, and I couldn't help but chuckle. It always greatly amused me to watch people's expressions change to one of fear when saying anything to me—I especially liked to play around with Mervyn, my personal butler.

"U-Uh, pardon me your royal highness, but they are very different." He pointed to the edge of the robe. "Y-You see, the edges of the robe use the fur of a fox, making it a softer and more comfortable wear. It also looks shinier than—"

I paused his babbling with a chuckle. "Oh Mervyn, I was just teasing you, forgive me. I would like to try it on."

He blinked for a moment to take in my request, and then hurriedly bowed his head. "U-Uh, yes your highness," he mumbled, quickly walking behind me.

"And quit the excessive grovelling," I added on as he draped the robe around my back. "I'm a human being, not God."

I saw the fear in his eyes from the mirror reflecting him from behind me, and came to realize that I may have been enjoying the teasing a tad too much.

Mervyn buttoned up the robe and stepped aside so that I could view myself in the mirror. I wasn't even denying that I looked good. This robe was like all the others, yet the shine of the fox fur made it stand out more.

I nodded at Mervyn through the mirror's reflection. "Very nice. I shall be wearing this for tomorrow," I confirmed. "Thank you very much for your service."

I could see him trying to hide a grin of pride as he bowed. "My pleasure, Prince Phillip."

As he proceeded to remove my robe and hang it up ready for tomorrow, I noticed how dark it was outside. Even a few stars had begun to peak through the mysterious clouds that floated in the atmosphere.

"Mervyn, would you be so kind as to tell me the time?" I asked as he hung the robe up on the hook of the wardrobe door.

"Certainly," he replied, his eyes flickering down to his wrist. "It is currently half past eleven in the evening."

Good Lord. I didn't expect the time to have gone so fast. "Then I should be getting back to my chambers now," I nodded once at him. "I wish you goodnight."

He bowed his head. "Goodnight, your highness."

As I escorted myself through the familiar corridors and corners of the castle, I felt my eyelids drooping as I walked.   
I was on the verge of sleepwalking!  
The week had been extremely busy, and it'd been difficult to concentrate on important things due to how exhausted I was growing.

The door to my chambers were finally in sight, and it felt glorious to open the door.  
But I wasn't alone.

I recognized the wavy brown-haired woman sat at the mirror as my duchess, Lily. She sat softly combing through her silky locks in her beautiful, golden dress that glimmered with amber stones, gently wrapped around her petite waist.

Her ears pricked at the sound of the door opening, and turned to face me. Her bright blue eyes sparkled at the sight of me and her pearly-white teeth beamed.

She was such a beautiful woman.

She rose from her seat, placing the hairbrush down and walking up to me. Once I'd shut the door behind me, I bought her into my embrace, inhaling her sweet scent and taking in her warmth.

"Oh Phil, I've missed you so," she murmured through the fabric of my velvet clothing. "We've barely seen each other."

"I've missed you too, darling," I whispered in her ear.

We gently pulled away from our embrace for a moment so I could connect my lips with hers. The softness of her lips brushed against my skin, and I felt the hairs of my neck stand on end.

It was quick to end when we contentedly pulled away. I was eager to talk to her; the marriage plans really had tired us out to the point where we'd make it to our chambers when the other was asleep. As nice as it was threading my fingers through her hair and watching her sleep soundly, it wasn't communication.

She reached down to clasp my hands in her sweet, warm palms and looked up at me fondly. "Forgive me, I still need to change into my night clothes," she placed a gentle peck upon my hands. "I've had such little time to do the simplest of things."

She released my hands and walked up behind the beautifully hand-painted dressing screen as I shuffled over to the large, soft mattress. I sank my body into the weightless material, letting out a tired sigh as I felt my muscles relax.

"Don't you find it odd that we'll not only be husband and wife, but also King and Queen of England in a mere few months time?" Lily questioned as she changed.

I flinched at the remembrance before answering her wonder. "Very odd indeed," I replied, and almost instantly wanted to take back the sentence I'd uttered from the way it came out—so clearly strained.

She fell silent for a moment before peeking over at me, and I avoided eye-contact like the bubonic plague.   
"Phil," she uttered warily.

"Mhm?" I stared up at the swaying dream catcher that dangled from the ceiling, not looking over at Lily—although I could feel her frown burning into the depths of my skin, boiling my blood. I guess you could call this a hyperbolic phrase for unease.

"Your response sounded very forced," she analysed, staying stood behind the screen. "Is everything alright?"

"Everything's fine, sweetheart," I rubbed my eyes. "I'm just very tired."

After a moment more, I could see that she'd stepped away out of the corner of my eye, and I found my gaze traveling to the direction of her. Her wavy locks fell over her shoulders with no tangle in sight, and her nightgown exposed her shoulders and collarbones.  
For a moment, I found myself distracted by her magnificence—you could say I was even slightly aroused by her—and how her beauty remained even when stripped of all royalty for a moment.

I was quick to drag myself back into reality as she approached me slowly, a sympathetic look creased in her features. She reached the side of the bed, and I watched her carefully.   
"I know what this is, Phil. I'm not a stupid girl," she told me with a slight laugh at the end. She reached out, placing her hand on my head and lacing her fingers through my hair. "You're anxious."

I instantly let out a laugh, and I myself was unsure as to why my vocal chords produced such a thing at such a time. My natural instinct was to deny it, so that's what I did. "N-No, I'm not anxious at all. Why would you think such a thing, love?"

She simply smiled, carefully nodding her head. "Phil, since we first met, I've been able to read you like a book. You've always interested me, intrigued me," she explained with wide, glittery eyes. "To me, you're like an infinite puzzle, an endless novel—the more I know, the more you speak to me. Not always physically. But I hear you, Phillip Lester, and I know that you're scared of what's to come. So, what troubles you?"

I wish I could've gathered words for a decent argument, but the mind isn't always fast enough. But finding the words to explain my troubles proved to be even more difficult.

My response of silence told Lily to continue. "Is it that you don't want to marry me?"

My brain definitely woke up at that presumption. "O-Of course not, my love," I exclaimed, sitting up and taking her hand in mine. "Yet...all the same, I feel like the system that we follow is going so quickly."

"This system has been passed down for generations, Phil," she reminded me sweetly. "If our ancestors achieved healthy, loving lives from it then we can, too."

"I know that," I sighed. "I'm just tired, that's all."

She exhaled gently, and finally came and laid next to me. Her arm draped around my torso and her head rested upon my shoulder, where I could smell her sweet, perfumed scent. "It's perfectly okay to be nervous, Phil. This is a big step in one's life, and it's daunting when you realize that you're next in line for those events—but they're only natural happenings. Plus, I'm sure you'll feel better after a goodnight's sleep."

I hummed in response, for my eyes had already begun to close. I felt Lily delicately kiss my cheek before whispering goodnight and the day came to a close.

The 22nd August, 1912. I felt like I'd remember that date somehow.

♔


	2. Chapter 2

d a n

"Alright, so you remember the techniques I showed you yesterday?" Pj inquired, leaning his body weight on the rickety wooden broomstick he held.

"U-Uh, of course!" I answered, trying to sound as confident as possible. I began to demonstrate my polishing method, dunking the cloth in the soapy bucket of water and squeezing it so it remained with just the right amount of dampness.

Every method that Pj had so kindly taught me I already had knowledge of, seeing as I used to earn a little money from cleaning people's houses before I came here. People rarely bothered with my service, saying that they couldn't afford it or whatnot—which I understood, seeing as most people were unfortunately of a lower class than I. My grandmother and I were not filthy rich in the slightest, but we were middle-classed, and we were lucky enough to even run a small business, where my grandmother stitched the finest tapestries with beautiful, colourful designs. Financially we were managing—but I knew that as much as she loved me, I was still another mouth to feed.

Despite all this, I did appreciate the reminder. My head was struggling to process much, for the small poke of headache from yesterday had transformed itself into a mighty beast, thumping against the cage of my brain with its large, clenched fists in a fit of fiery rage. These kind of headaches were normal for me—I've had them ever since I was a child. Growing up, I constantly had these roaring headaches, and still do to this day.

It may have been regular behaviour for my body to inflict such pain on me—but all the same, I couldn't help but wonder why it had to happen now, of all days.

On the day I meet the Prince for the first time.

I began to scrub at the shiny, sanded-down wood, using all the practised methods to get between every small crevice, capturing the remaining dust like a criminal clearing evidence.

"You know, Dan," Pj started, nodding his head slowly as he watched me with a small smile on his face. "I know it's only wood polishing, but I can still see professional-looking techniques in it."

I looked at him, slightly red-faced and scratched the nape of my neck. "O-Oh, thank you," I replied sheepishly. "My grandmother taught me a few tricks growing up."

"Grandmother, huh?" Pj wondered, leaning on the broom even more, his body tilting to the right as he clung onto the stick.

My heart sank a little, and I looked back down at the bucket of water, the ripples distorting my reflection ever so slightly. "Yes," I simply replied, with a noticeable quietness to my voice. I didn't mean for it to sound clear that I was saddened, but Pj seemed to instantly know.

I felt a gentle hand touch my shoulder, and my head snapped back up to Pj, slightly startled by the unexpected gesture. He gave me a sincerely apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, I didn't think before I spoke. I deeply apologise."

I almost instantly shook my head. "No, don't apologise." I sighed gently. "My mother and father...they both passed away on the same year. My mother died from influenza and my father wasn't the same when he lost her. So...he died from grief later on that year."

"My goodness, that's awful," Pj exhaled with a furrowed brow. "I'm truly sorry for your loss."

"Don't be. I was only four years of age when it occurred, and my grandmother was an excellent carer, so it didn't affect me as much as it would've if I were older." I gasped lightly at the realisation. "I-I've never told anyone about this before—"

"—It's safe with me, don't worry Dan," Pj assured me with a pat on the shoulder. "That's what friends are for."

I felt my ears prick up and my eyes widen with shock. "F-Friends?" I repeated in a whisper.

He nodded. "Yes! That is of course, only if you want that label."

I nodded back enthusiastically in case he changed his mind. "Definitely. Sorry, I've just...never had a friend before."

I was quite a quiet child growing up—through school, through work—I've never really been able to call someone my friend. It warmed my heart knowing that this place would change that.

Our short-lived silence was quick to be broken when Louise came rushing round the corner, with a broomstick in one hand and a hair comb in the other. She looked a little crazed.

"Oh, hey Louise," Pj chirped as she came bounding towards us. "Is something wro—"

"—What are you two doing??" She demanded, with a concerning aggression in her voice. "The Prince's meeting is tonight and you're stood here gossiping and dawdling! Don't you care about how you're visually presented?"

We blinked in confusion for a moment, until Pj cracked up laughing. "You can't exactly judge anyone in terms of gossiping, my my," he pretended to wipe a tear of amusement from under his eye. "The hypocrisy, it brings me to tears, good Lord."

"Shut it," she snapped, trying not to laugh herself. "We need to be serious about this! You two need to groom yourselves and make yourselves look less scruffy, else what on earth will Prince Phillip think of you both??"

"Louise, it isn't even lunchtime yet, and the meeting is this evening. Please calm down," Pj sighed, glancing at me with impatience in his eyes.

"Alright, mister mature," she responded in a funny voice with her hands on her hips. "It's better to be early than to be late."

"Then we'll be on time," he rolled his eyes.

It took every ounce of power and strength I had within me to restrain the tickling giggle that threatened to erupt from my larynx.

After some heavy convincing, she eventually flounced back downstairs to continue her very early visual preparation, and Pj and I were left to get on with our jobs.

Our regular daily chores consisted of cleaning the windows, dusting the furniture, sweeping and washing the floorboards, and tidying anything misplaced. There may have been four main chores, but we were instructed to do them for every single room in the castle, including the attic. Seeing as there were four floors, that was quite a fair few rooms to tidy. There's a fifth floor, but we weren't instructed to clean that floor, as it's only cleaned by the Prince's higher-up, more personal butlers.

Thankfully, all the cleaning wasn't as daunting as it sounded, for the chores were kept on top of constantly and we all worked as a team to do it. Once they're complete, we'd help out in the kitchen or simply wait until our service was needed any further. It was a good system.

Pj and I finished up the first floor and began lugging the cleaning buckets and dusters up the grand staircase. Our feet echoed against the marble steps as the small sounds bounced off the spacey walls around us. I gawked up at the grand castle walls, where above me the staircase continued to spiral up to the top, and the walls on each floor had fascinating paintings hanging on each handle. Any gaps on the walls were filled in with red and gold wallpaper that felt velvety to the touch.

We reached the top of the second floor and, as I hadn't gotten used to where things were yet, I had to turn to Pj for help. "Which room are we cleaning next?" I asked him, my eyes wandering around the castle's surroundings.

"We'll begin with tearoom number one, which is down here," Pj pointed at the corridor to the left of the staircase we stood at the top of.

"There's more than one tearoom?" I questioned as we walked down there.

"Of course," Pj chuckled. "There are actually fifteen tea rooms in this castle in total."

"Fifteen?" I exclaimed, almost dropping my bucket of water. I wasn't sure why I was surprised—this was the home of the soon-to-be King, after all.

"Yep. They're all so spacious, too!" He shook his head. "Our Royal Highness is the luckiest man alive."

We continued shuffling down the long, carpeted corridor—when I had to stop. There was one painting in particular along these walls that I couldn't help but study.

It was a golden-framed painting of the Prince himself. I'd only ever seen his Majesty's face once or twice on the black and white blur of a small television screen—but this view had colour to it, and I'd never seen it before.

He stood by a large, semi-circular window which held the beautiful view of the royal gardens flourishing under the sun. He had a neutral expression as his black hair fell slightly over his pale forehead, and his posture was straight and tall as he stood there in his expensive, silky robes and riches with utter pride. His hands rested in his palms, adding a bit of softness to his image.

But I couldn't seem to lose focus of those eyes. They outshone the bright blue sky that stood behind him—it was almost as if the very atmosphere itself was being mocked. The sea-blue that rippled in his retinas were a lot more mesmerising.

I heard the footsteps of Pj's shoes approach me slowly, and I turned to see him looking at the large painting with me. He placed his free hand on his hip as he stared up at it with a sigh. "It's good, isn't it?"

I nodded slowly, in awe of how realistically painted it was. The way the silk on the blue robe he wore emitted a gentle shine, the fine strands of his raven-black hair, his neutrally sculpted facial features—it was incredible.

"I've only ever set foot in that room once, the one he's stood in," Pj told me.

I turned to him with raised eyebrows. "Really? Why? I-If you don't mind me asking," I added with a flustered stutter.

He gently chuckled to himself before telling the story, as if he were amused by it. "I wasn't actually allowed to, as no one other than the Princess, the Prince himself and his higher-up butlers are given permission to go in there unless directly instructed...but I couldn't resist. The Prince's door was gaping open ever so slightly, and when I went over to close it, I couldn't help but take a peek inside."

"What was it like?" I questioned, finding myself very interested in Pj's story for no particular reason at all. It was still as if I weren't living in the same place as our Royal Highness; like I was still living with my grandma in my middle-classes household just dreaming about it. I was living in every ordinary person's dreams, and admittedly, I was feeling very good about myself for it.

Pj looked up at the painting with a small smile playing on his lips. "It was...very interesting. It was almost unexpected—but at the same time it wasn't? It had all of the high-priced possessions like a record player, a golden dresser, drawers with rare jewels scattered over the polished mahogany—but at the same time, despite those expensive possessions, it almost looked...cozy. At home. Maybe a little messy, but just scruffy enough to still remain a royal bedroom." He shook his head slowly. "It only took me standing in the middle of the room for a mere minute to figure out why the Prince doesn't let anyone but a personal butler tend to it."

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "Wow," I sighed, and I couldn't help but let a giddy smile remain shamefully stamped across my face.

"Yeah," Pj breathed. He then gave me a small, friendly nudge. "Hey, if you ever happen to walk past the Prince's chambers and his door is open, maybe you should go inside and see for yourself. Providing he's not in there, of course."

I found myself laughing at his bold suggestion. "I dare not, for I'd be too nervous to even approach the door."

"Fair enough," he laughed with me. He turned his gaze down to the corridor and then back to me. "We should get back to work, we still have a lot of rooms to clean. We can talk more about it once his Majesty's meeting is over."

I nodded once. "Okay." I took one last look at the painting, absorbing every minuscule detail of the marks made before picking up my cleaning bucket and catching up with Pj, who'd walked on slightly ahead of me.

I may have been nervous, and going through a searing headache at the same time—but I could confidently admit that I was excited to see the Prince in person for the very first time.

♔

p h i l

I was not excited for this meeting.

Admittedly, I'd been dreading it for a while now, especially as the time drew closer. I knew I even looked reluctant to partake in this just from seeing myself in the mirror. I connected my eyes with the man I saw in the reflection and wondered what one would label me as just from first glance.

Prince Phillip, our noble gentleman.

Prince Phillip, our perfect step-down from God.

Prince Phillip, our Royal Highness...

My shoulders slouched as I came to an accurate conclusion. In their minds, the true description would most likely be: Prince Phillip, grumpy, clueless rich man. It may have been a law to not say bad things about royalty, and personally I found that a little over the top. Why? Well, that was simple.

Because I wasn't an idiot. I knew people's opinions of me at first glance. I knew when someone liked me or didn't like me. It's something you can just pick up on and understand quite simply, and no bloody law could ever possibly block judgement from my view.

People saw me and thought of a young, naïve, wealthy young chap without a mummy or daddy to look after him. Hardly anyone saw me differently.

"Do you wish for me to assist you with anymore preparations for tonight's meeting?" Mervyn inquired, jolting me out of my thoughts. 

I glanced at him through the mirror, giving him a small smile. "One last thing and I'll be jolly-good," I began. "Would you care to tell me the time?"

"Certainly, your Highness." He fumbled around in his suit pocket to whip out his pocket watch, taking a moment to process it and then proceeding to tuck it back into where he got it from. "It is currently 5pm, your guest will be arriving in approximately two hours."

I wanted to groan, but I suppressed my inner turmoil and gave Mervyn a nod instead. "Thank you very much. You may go and take a well-deserved break until I'm in need of your service again."

He bowed his head quickly. "I thank you heartily, noble Prince."

Mervyn was someone I instantly trusted. He's always seen me as a genuine Prince, and although the grovelling often proved to be annoying, I still respected him for it. I could tell he was truly honoured to start working for me, not just for money purposes, and for that I promoted him to not only a higher-up butler, but my personal butler. To top the cake, he's also a terrific stylist. When I thought about it properly, I realised that I didn't actually trust anyone other than Mervyn and Lily.

Lily and I may have been convinced into the relationship by her parents, but I was lucky that she wasn't a sour, annoying woman like some of the other rich ladies that've tried to capture my interest in the past. Lily wasn't like that. I could read her so easily. She fell in love with me genuinely, not twisted up with money or riches, just raw love.

I knew that deep down I didn't deserve her, however. Because I can do hurtful things to the people I love most, and that was my biggest flaw.

I decided to stop pondering and do something with the two hours I had left. I left my bedroom, venturing downstairs to floor three. I was shocked that my brain had managed to memorise this castle, for admittedly it was incredibly large.

I walked fairly fast down the stairs to floor three and down the left corridor, hearing my robe follow behind me as it dragged across the ancient flooring. Many echoing footsteps later, my eyes lit up at the sight of the door I had arrived at.

'The Piano Room', the sign on the door read, and I proceeded to open it. As it creakily swung open, my sight became exposed to the familiar surroundings of the long unused piano room. This area held a special place in my heart for many reasons, which I began to point out and remind myself of.

This very space was personalised to my exact liking, for whenever I walked into it, I could feel the creativity and character beneath my feet and dancing happily in swirls around me. The piano sat in the very corner, in a shadow of mystery, whilst potted plants scattered the displays, giving the dull grey of the space a burst of bright, fresh green. There also sat one, tiny square window with the most minuscule slip of light shining through onto the piano, like an invitation. I always felt welcomed in this room. It may not have been much, but its energy held so much saturation.

I slowly trailed over to the piano, feeling the smooth, shiny wood under my fingertips. I took a seat behind it on the wooden chair, staring down at the keys with excitement in my features. Looking down at this piano for me was the same perspective as a small child looking down at a picture book, in awe of the colourful pictures and beautiful imagery it portrays, and how lost you can get into the pages—but in a positive way. So beamingly positive.

I glanced up at the sheet of music rested on the wood messily, and proceeded to straighten it out so it became more readable.

A small pang of emotion hit my chest when I read the name of the piece.

Nocturne in E-flat major, one of my most favoured piano pieces for many reasons.

Some good, others were...melancholy.

I placed my fingers upon the piano, playing the first single note with a slight hesitation, before my other fingers completed the notation softly. I instantly began to melt into the music, like butter upon a warm scone. Nocturne was a piece I was particularly fond of, and the reasons seemed to just wash over me.

I sighed heavily as I played, thinking about the past. I started learning the piano when I was only a boy—ten years of age, to be precise. I just felt an instant connection with it, it was an incredible feeling of discovery that I still ride the high of to this day. I can vaguely remember wandering in to this room for the first time. How it all began.

The keys I played began to grow louder as I stabbed at the keys harder, adding an obvious dynamic contrast. As the memory developed, my stomach began to twist more and more. So sickeningly beautiful, it was. I remembered it too well. How I wish I didn't.

I can remember, the cheek-pinching age of ten with a mind so young and free; as pure as a field of daisies. I can remember the same-old floorboard creak beneath my bare feet, as I curiously pushed the squeaky door that read 'The Piano Room' to reveal my mother. Sat upon the same wooden stool, playing the same piano. Playing Nocturne in E-flat major, just like me in the present day.

My key-stabbing softened as I pictured that treasured memory of her. She saw me. She smiled. She tapped the empty space on the stool, saying 'come, Philly', in her calming, gentle tone that cradled me in the arms of safety.

With a toothy grin, I race over there enthusiastically, jumping and struggling until my small little legs managed to scramble up onto the unreachable seat.

I'd never been there before. I'd never seen such a thing. How was she doing that? She was perfectly pressing those keys and producing such a gorgeous, rich sound...what on earth?

"What is that, mother?" I ask, staring down at the keys with wide eyes.

"It's called a piano, darling," she chuckles to herself gently, and continues to play flawlessly.

I took a moment to watch in amazement, absorbing myself into the sweet sound with wide eyes. I found it so easy to get lost in the piece, I could've submerged myself in it all day.

"How do you play so well, mother? I want to play like that!" I reach down, pressing my stubby fingers into two clashing keys, and cringe. I didn't know why mine sounded so...terrible.

My mother proceeds to laugh, her face lighting up and her cheeks glowing pink with amusement. "Oh Phillip, you can't immediately become like me, you need lessons first." she leans down to whisper in my ear. "I could give you lessons, if you want."

My head shoots up, an enormous smile erupting onto my face. "R-Really?? I can become a professional like you??"

"I'm not a professional but of course, sweetheart." She pinches my nose, causing me to squirm.

Such a beautiful, crystal-clear memory that is so thankfully savoured.

Or...was it?

In that moment, I couldn't bring myself to play another note. My fingers tensed and the sickly sweet sound stopped. My jaw clenched as the silence flooded my ears, ringing and vibrating as if I were in the centre of a deafening room.

I didn't want to remember again. I didn't want the reminder of the bitter memory that I just couldn't drown out. As my suddenly dry, empty eyes made contact with a pair of familiar others, both just as emotionless and dead as they looked down at the ground with an infinite, deep darkness that was too powerful to escape.

No, I shouldn't be in here. I shouldn't be reminding myself. I promised I wouldn't and I'm breaking that.

I hurriedly stood up, ready to march over to the door—but someone already stood there. Staring at me with a face of sympathy and confusion was Lily, all dressed up in an emerald-green gown, braided hair and makeup.

I froze for a moment, and then relaxed my shoulders in defeat. "Lily," I exhaled, combing my fingers through my hair. "I—"

"—Why would you come in here, Phil?" She questioned with a sigh. "Why, after all those years of recovery and sadness, would you risk all that repeating itself?"

"I-I'm sorry, I thought that I'd be okay because it happened so long ago," I realised how idiotic I was to have gone and done this just at that moment. Lily was completely right.

Her arms dropped to her sides. "You shouldn't be sorry."

"Why shouldn't I be?"

She looked down. "Because it's not your fault."

I didn't know what to feel about it. After all these years of pondering it, I'd have thought to have understood the situation better. But instead, I just grew even more confused.

A moment of silence passed between Lily and I before she slowly began walking over to me. "You could've talked to me if you were nervous, darling," she mumbled. She approached me even more, and the moment she was in arms reach I pulled her into a delicate hug, resting my cheek on top of her soft head of hair.

"I know," I whispered. "I don't know what's been the matter with me recently." I'm not usually this nervous for meetings or dinner parties—but I was, and I didn't know why. Maybe I had a strange feeling that something may occur—but I would never tell anyone that. I'd just be passing on my nerves like a contagion.

"There's nothing wrong with being nervous," Lily told me, her head moving from my chest to look up at me. "It's a natural emotion to experience—but learning how to handle it is incredibly important in order to conquer it. And it's definitely not here, Phil."

I shook my head. "I know it's not. I don't know what I was thinking."

It just looked so inviting and bright—but I guess it was spirals of lies and bad memories disguised under potted plants and musical instruments. I should've known.

She cupped my cheek in her warm, soft hands, and leant in to place a delicate kiss upon my lips, lingering for a moment to communicate over her love. I made little effort to kiss her back, for my mind was else-ware.

With the bad thoughts.

She pulled away almost carefully, and met my eyes again with a smile. "I love you, Phil," she whispered.

Those three words used to send chills running up and down my spine, dizzying my brain, and make me feel as if I were weightless, just suspended in clouds of happiness.

Nowadays, it barely made me flinch. I didn't know why. It just didn't hold much power to it anymore. At the end of the day, they were mere words. That was all.

Speaking those words back to Lily through a pained smile made me realise—love was ludicrous. It was a mask, not a genuine feeling.

Love was pathetic, weak—and I refused to feel it anymore.

♔


End file.
